


Let's Be Selfish

by theharellan



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts, F/F, Femslash February, Fluff, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 02:33:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20350927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theharellan/pseuds/theharellan
Summary: The Orlesian Civil War was over, but its conclusion left Thora Cadash feeling hollow and tired. Lace tries to lighten the evening, to do something to reclaim it for themselves.





	Let's Be Selfish

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for Femslash February

In the distance, the sky had cleared over Halamshiral. Storm clouds lifted to light the city proper with silver moonlight. Thora might have called it a good omen, but only if Celene were around to hear the lie. The night was theirs, unquestionably. Orlais would rise to fight at the Inquisition’s side, but it was what came after Corypheus that had her concerned. All she could think was– what if she’d just set Orlais back on the same path that had ended with Halamshiral on fire? From here, she couldn’t see the damage, only carefully trimmed hedges and a dark countryside. The city lay almost out of sight, just barely visible over the hills– just as it was meant to be.

An anxious sigh moved her as she leaned against the smooth stone banister, weary of the perfect posture she’d been forced to keep up all night. Just as her back bent, she heard the sound of leather boots at her back and she snapped up straight again. “You doing alright?” Harding’s voice carried from behind, a hand gently touched her shoulder.

“Yeah–” she said, teeth coming down on her bottom lip when she thought better of it. This night had seen enough lies. “I mean, not really.”

“Hm.” Harding hummed, eyes narrow a moment in thought before she pulled a plate from behind her back. A handful of stolen petit fours are piled onto the plate, far from the neatly arranged plates the servants had been offering all night. “Tiny cake for your thoughts?”

“Mm… n– actually, on second thought, why not.” With the night almost over, there wasn’t much reason to worry about getting sick on her uniform. Thora plucked one from Harding’s plate, taking an ungraceful bite. “Just– all of this, Celene, Briala… what happened to Gaspard.” She didn’t regret not giving him the crown, even without it he’d set his sights beyond Orlais’ borders. But that hadn’t meant he’d deserved the fate that was coming to him. “Nothing sits right.”

Harding sets the plate on the banister, humming quietly under her breath. “It’s all a little more complicated than sealing rifts and fighting nightmares, isn’t it?”

“You’re telling me. Never thought I’d be more comfortable around demons than people.” Maybe she’d been spending too much time with Solas. Thora brushed a gloved hand over her hair, careful not to disturb the gold worked into her curls. “I just want to feel good about something tonight. Is that selfish?”

Harding shook her head, going silent for a good long moment before she spoke again, “I can maybe think of one thing.”

Thora’s eyes snapped towards Harding, swallowing a bite of the petit four she’d had in her mouth faster than was comfortable. She coughed, choking a little when Harding looked back at her. “I saw you when you were dancing with Florianne. Looks like those dance lessons we had paid off, huh?”

Her cheeks grew hot, looking away just as quickly as she’d looked towards her. It’d been easy, laying it on real thick with Florianne, but Florianne was a snake. Harding, on the other hand…

Well, it was difficult when you actually _cared_ what the other person actually thought of you. Even when it didn’t make her heart beat faster just thinking about them.

“I had a good teacher,” Thora returned, lips parted in a wide grin despite her nervousness.

“Yeah, maybe.” She waved her hand dismissively. “It made me a little jealous, to be honest. Seeing someone else make their dancing debut with you.” She was joking, Thora could hear the laugh in her voice, but it sure did make her stomach flip.

“Don’t you mean: ‘Lady Inquisitor Cadash, vanquisher of the rebel mages of Ferelden?”

Harding snorted, covering her mouth with her hand. “I know what I said.”

Another silence passed between them, this one punctuated by the soft sigh of wind through the gardens, pushing the storm every further away. Thora took a slow, steadying breath, wondering how her next question measured to presenting herself to Orlais’ court. Bravery-wise, anyway. “Well, maybe you’d like her second dance?”

It was Harding’s turn to look pleasantly surprised, her lips parting in a silly little smile. Thora could’ve sworn she saw something like a blush burn beneath her freckles. “Are you serious?” Her face gets hot, and she swears the white brand on her cheek must be positively pink. Afraid that if she asks again she’ll start to stutter, she steps back from Harding and bows low, offering out her arm for her to take. Harding wordlessly slips her hand into hers, giggling when Thora presses her lips against the back of her fingers.

She tries to pull her away, back towards the the ballroom and into the public eye, but she feels Harding resist. “Wait–” she says, “Let’s just, stay out here.” Her other hand settles on Thora’s shoulder, stepping closer. “I think I’m through with sharing you for the night. We can hear the music well enough out here, let’s just…” She trails off as they start to move, recreating the same steps Thora had stumbled through a couple weeks before. “Let’s be selfish.”


End file.
